


What Happens In Chicago

by Scylla87



Category: Prison Break
Genre: F/M, First Time, Fluff, Mild Angst, On the Run, Sharing a Bed, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-04
Updated: 2019-03-04
Packaged: 2019-11-09 00:59:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17991833
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scylla87/pseuds/Scylla87
Summary: Holed up in a hotel in Chicago, waiting to clear Lincoln's name, Michael and Sara find themselves unable to resist each other. (Just a cute fluff filled, smutty story between the pair.)





	What Happens In Chicago

What Happens in Chicago:

Sara opened her eyes and looked out into the distance of the dark room. When she had fled Chicago mere weeks before, she never thought that she would see it again, but now here she was, in a hotel not all the far from where she had been living when all of this started. It was the this that was keeping her awake. Or rather, the who. Michael Scofield. Or even more specifically, the situation that they found themselves in. In a hotel room. In bed. Together. “I can sleep on the couch,” he said suddenly, implying that the space he had artfully left between their bodies might not be enough.

 

His words made her pause. Did she want him to sleep on the couch? “You don’t have to,” she whispered back. There were other words she longed to whisper as well, but for the moment they would have to remain unspoken between them. Instead she said, “And you don’t have to sleep on the edge of the bed either.”

 

To her surprise, his body shifted a little closer to her own without protest as she turned to face him. His expression was unreadable in the dark, but she thought that she might know what was simmering beneath the surface. There was something familiar about the look in his eyes that both frightened and intrigued her. They were alone together and unlikely to be interrupted anytime soon. That hadn’t happened since Gila. If she hadn’t left that day… The thought hung heavy in her mind. “Michael?” she whispered softly.

 

The only answer he gave her was his lips on her own. And a voice in the back of her mind whispered, _three_. It was the third time he had kissed her, so alike but so different from the times that had come before. She was almost waiting for the knock on the door or the realization to hit her that someone might see as their lips brushed against each other, but neither came and they were free to keep on kissing for as long as they liked. They were free to do so many things that they had never done before. It was the thought of those things that made her finally pull away.

 

He watched her uncertainly as she struggled to catch her breath. This was dangerous territory they were in, on the cusp of crossing a line that couldn’t be uncrossed. But hadn’t she already made her choice and reached the point of no return? If they got caught, she’d be judged just as guilty as the rest of them. The world at large was hardly going to let her off the hook because she had the willpower to resist the urge to sleep with him. No one would believe she hadn’t anyway, no matter what she said. She laughed suddenly at the thought, the sheer absurdity of her hesitance, her uncertainty. “What?” Michael asked her with a laugh of his own.

 

“It’s nothing,” she said, breathless from laughter. “It’s just strange to be back home, I guess. Am I even the same person who lived here a month ago? So much has happened in such a short time. I’ve broken the law, gone on the run, and now I’m holed up in a hotel less than fifty blocks from my apartment with my fugitive boyfriend and his brother.” She continued to laugh uncontrollable for a moment, but then suddenly the laughter died as her words finally travelled from her mouth to her ears. She shifted uncomfortably on the bed. Was she unconsciously asking him what they were? Now did not seem like the time to have that particular conversation. “Look,” she began, the words for how to get herself out of this eluding her.

 

“Is that what I am?” he cut in, “Your boyfriend?” He sounded amused as he tested the word on his tongue.

 

She shrugged, suddenly unable to meet his gaze. “Maybe not the word I would use, but you’re my something. Right?”

 

She looked back up at him in time to see him nod. “Right,” he whispered softly, a small smile curling around the edges of his mouth.

 

Her own mouth mimicked his own as he leaned down and kissed her again, just a soft brush of his lips against her own, a much different kiss than any they had shared before. The feel of it tingled down her spine as she closed the small distance that was still between them. It felt right being here with him, like this was where she had always belonged. All that time she had spent carefully keeping a distance between them seemed so frivolous now, so unjust. And then when they finally had a chance to try, she had run away. All that time they could have had was wasted. If only she hadn’t allowed herself to believe that this was wrong. How could something that felt so right be wrong anyway? She pulled away reluctantly, so she could look at him. The way he was looking at her was new, like he was seeing her for the first time. “Hi,” she whispered, a hand coming up to cup his jaw.

 

He smiled back at her shyly, an arm wrapping around her waist. There was something in his eyes, words he wanted to say, words of assurance about their current situation, but she didn’t need to hear them, didn’t want to hear them, not yet. There was something that she wanted here, something that she craved in her very bones, and she could tell that he felt the same. The time had long passed for all of that. She silenced his words with a kiss. They had spent enough time denying themselves what they wanted.

 

The hand on his face slid away, down over his chest. She could feel his muscles tensing slightly through his t-shirt as she touched him. Was it surprise at her touch or anticipation he felt as he curled up beside her with his lips on her own? She knew that for her it was a little bit of both, surprise at her daring, anticipation for what may be yet to come.

 

Her fingers dug into his ribcage, like a mountain climber clinging to the rockface for support. She was descending now, easing her way toward the ground, so close to her goal but not yet close enough to let go. Once she did that there was no turning back. Would he stop her? She flexed her fingers experimentally, tips digging back into his ribs. And let go.

 

Her hand left his side, sliding further downwards. He let out a gasp of surprise but did nothing to stop the brushing of her fingertips along the flat of his stomach and lower, so much lower. She probed slowly, hand sliding across the fabric, over his pelvis, fingers brushing along the hard line of his hipbone. So close to dangerous territory, so close to the point of no return. She continued her descent downwards.

 

At last, her fingers brushed along his cock. Even just the briefest touch had him twitching. She felt the same excitement coursing through her own veins, but there was also an uncertainty there. “Is this okay?” she asked, pulling away from his mouth. Her hand rested almost casually against his clothed cock.

 

He glanced at her, a question in his eyes, the same explanations and assurances he had been about to give her earlier clearly still on the tip of his tongue, but he seemed to sense that she did not want them. Hers was not a question of if they should but if they could. Could I touch you here not should I touch you here? And there was no denying that he wanted to be touched, that he liked being touched by her. Slowly, he nodded. Should they, was a question for another day. Maybe they would ask it, maybe not. But for now, she merely tightened her grip and squeezed him gently. He leaned forward and kissed her softly. It was just a contrast to how she held him that she wondered if she was doing this all wrong. It hit her suddenly as their lips brushed and she gathered up the courage to continue her exploration in earnest that this was a first for them. She had no idea what he wanted or what he liked anymore than he knew what she needed from him in that moment. In a way, this was a test. Did they really fit together? Sure, it felt right, but was it right? The question haltered her progress, stole the breath from her lungs. The doubt was sudden and all consuming. What was she doing here? How was this supposed to work? She needed someone to give her the answers, to let her know if she was on the right track. It had never been like this with anyone else, not since she was a fumbling teenager who didn’t know how things like this were supposed to go. Her hand fell away from him without her meaning for it to. “Michael,” she began, words of explanation still struggling to come.

 

“What do you want from me?” he asked. It wasn’t a demand or complaint like the question was usually asked. It was gentle and probing, spoken with genuine concern.

 

There were so many ways that she could answer that question, if only the words would come. Instead, the only answer that came to her was to lean forward and kiss him. Maybe it was not the best answer she could give, but he took it all the same, hand coming up to tangle in her hair as their tongues danced. It reminded her so much of the first time he had kissed her that when she pulled away panting, she was dazed. No man had ever left her so breathless before.

 

He smiled at her softly as her head hit the pillow, expression shy and just as dazed as her own. His hand unwound from her hair. There was a question in his eyes, a different one from before, as he laid that same hand against her ribcage. His lips never parted to form the words, but she nodded all the same as his thumb brushed along the underside of her breast. That tingling feeling was back, spreading down her spine and making her toes curl. A soft gasp fell from her lips as he cupped her breast fully, thumb circling her nipple through the fabric of her shirt. It was so much and not enough all at the same time. She wanted more, needed more. The thought was all consuming as she squirmed beneath his touch.

 

Her own hands dug into his hips, fingers inching under the hem of his t-shirt. It was unnerving, touching his bare flesh. She remembered with a sudden clarity that not too long ago he had been her patient, off limits, forbidden. _First thing they tell you when you take the job is never to fall in love with an inmate._ Those words haunted her now, even as her hands slid up his back and pulled his shirt over his head.

 

That first removal of clothing seemed to freeze them both in their tracks. It was not as if she had never seen him shirtless before, but there was a completely different connotation to the act now. The eyes that lingered over the lines that ran across his chest were not professional now, as scarcely professional as they had ever been. She looked at him now as a woman looks upon a man. Now was the time to stop if they were going to. Instead, she said nothing as he leaned down and kissed her, his weight heavy against her chest. The kiss consumed her thoughts. She lost track of where their hands were, on each other’s faces, tangled in each other’s hair. At least one of his hands was on her body though, fingers inching across the bare skin of her hip and over the expanse of her belly. A soft groan escaped her as his hand wrapped around her breast, their skin touching in a way she had only dreamt about. But then his hand was gone again, lips easing away as well. There was a hollowness in her belly as she searched his face for signs of regret. What she saw instead was determination, a desire for something his mouth was not expressing. Until it was.

 

She gasped again, half in pleasure and half in shock, as his head dived down towards her chest, pushing her shirt out of the way in the process. His lips closed around her nipple, tongue brushing across the sensitive nub. “Michael,” she whispered, contentment dripping from every syllable as one hand cradled the back of his head and the other slipped back down to his cock.

 

He was even harder now than the last time she had touched him, and there was a small wet spot along the front of his sweats from where the head of his dick lie dripping. She brushed her thumb against it carefully, loving the way he groaned against her breast. His tongue swirled around her nipple as a thank you, causing her to create a wet spot of her own. Another breathless gasp escaped her.

 

She wanted more, needed more. There was a deep throbbing between her thighs, an ache that longed to be filled. She had no memory of ever being this turned on in her life. She had no memory of anything. There was only this longing, this desire. The need for more consumed her, and she slid her hand passed the waistband of his pants, intent on getting her hands on him.

 

Her palm brushed against his tip, coming away sticky. She used the moisture to ease the glide of her hand down the shaft as he groaned against her. “Sara,” he said, a warning in his voice. The words were clear to her ears even though he hadn’t spoken them, but she had no desire to stop.

 

The only thought in her head was more, more access, more flesh, more him. As he switched from one breast to the other, she wound her fingers into the waistband of his sweats and pulled the offending fabric down his thighs along with his underwear. He pulled away from her breasts but did not protest the removal of the last of his clothing. Far from it, he took the opportunity to ease her own pants off as well. Now the only thing between them was her t-shirt, rucked up around her neck, exposing her breasts. She was quick to discard that as well.

 

The heat of his body was close, not quite touching her, but there was a certain thrill that consumed her at the thought that he was there naked beside her. She could reach out and touch him easily, which she did, hand wrapping around his cock once more.

 

He hummed contently, a hand sliding between her thighs. His fingers brushed against the outside of her lips, so close yet so far from where she wanted him to touch her. Wordlessly, she spread her legs a little wider, and those same fingers slipped amongst her folds. He glanced at her sheepishly, almost looking surprised to find her wet for him even as he pressed two fingers inside of her. She sighed softly and flicked her hips down, swallowing the digits blissfully. Another sigh followed on the heels of the first as his thumb brushed across her clit. She was too worked up to wait, to go slowly. With a groan, she pushed his hand away. “Later,” she said as way of explanation before she pushed him down onto the bed.

 

A moment later, she straddled him, wasting no time getting him inside of her. The wetness helped her slide onto his cock easily, and they both groaned at finally being in contact like they were meant to be. She rocked her hips shallowly, overcome by how great he felt, how well he fit inside of her. It seemed unfathomable now that she could have ever thought they might not know now to satisfy each other. They didn’t need words to tell each other what they needed. He let her rock slowly, sliding up and down his shaft, getting used to the way her muscles stretched around him, the hands on her hips merely holding her steady.

 

Her walls pulsed around him as she sped up, hips rocking against his harshly. One day soon, maybe even that night once they were done, she wanted him to pin her to the bed and take her slow, but for now she needed to quench the fire he had lit inside of her. She needed him hard and fast and now. A heady moan passed her lips as she slammed down onto him. The bed creaked in answer, and she realized that there would be no mystery what they were doing if Lincoln was still awake and in the main part of the suite. Her hips faltered momentarily at the thought, but Michael felt too good inside of her to stop now. She pressed her palms against his chest and redoubled the snapping of her hips.

 

A hand slid from her hip to between her thighs, just above where they were joined and brushed across her clit. The touch sent shockwaves through her entire body as he groaned beneath her. The pressure was building for them both, the rubbing on her clit becoming more insistent, the movement of her hips erratic. She had dreamt of riding him, but even in her wildest dreams it never felt like this.  “So close,” she whispered, the feeling of having him inside of her becoming overwhelming, the truth of her words proven as her walls fluttered and pulsed around his cock.

 

He groaned softly as he fucked her through the aftershocks of her release. She could tell that he was getting close too by the way his jaw clenched as his fingers dug into her hips. He whispered her name desperate, “Sara,” but the rest of what he meant to say was lost as he grit his teeth.

 

She kept her hips steady, riding him as her walls continued to flutter weakly. He tapped her hips urgently, clearly right on the edge. Their movements were slower now, the room filled with their labored breaths and the creaking of the bed beneath them. She leaned down, lips brushing along his forehead, hips flicking back in even, calculated strokes. A small gasp fell from his lips at the change of angle. “That’s it,” she whispered, squeezing around him.

 

An almost pained groan escaped him, and his fingers dug into her hips hard. She pressed down onto him, milking him. His head shook against the pillow, something desperate in his eyes. In the moment, she couldn’t think what he was telling her as she rocked back down onto him, taking his cock deep inside her. Another orgasm was taking over, having built so fast on the heels of her last one. She was tight around him, walls like a vice squeezing his cock. Even without the extra pressure on her clit, she felt herself tip over the edge, milking him as she came down. He groaned again, eyes wild as his hips bucked into her on instinct, even as he renewed his urgent tapping on her hips. But it was too late. With a final groan he let go, her orgasm pulling him over the edge.

 

A shocked gasp fell from her lips as his cock twitched inside of her, coating her walls with come. She’d never felt anything like it before, and without having to think about it, she realized why. Her hips stilled, and their eyes met. There was a message there she didn’t need help deciphering. _I tried to warn you,_ he seemed to say.

 

She didn’t answer as she collapsed onto the bed beside him, her breath heavy and uneven. He reached out to her hesitantly. This was something she had never allowed herself to have in her dreams, the after. Her mind had never been able to conjure it up properly, so she was at a loss for what to say or do as he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her back against his chest. He seemed to know not to ask her if she was alright, if they were alright. She was glad of it, the answer still lost somewhere in her jumbled thoughts. For now, she didn’t want to have to think about it. She just wanted him to continue lying there, holding her until she knew what to say. It seemed she was at least going to get half her wish. When the words came, there weren’t the ones she was expecting she would say. “I’ve never done that before,” she admitted to him quietly.

 

The arm around her waist tightened. “I hadn’t either,” he said, lips brushing against her bare shoulder as he spoke.

 

The confession thrilled her a little, something that should scare her but didn’t. She was still yet to learn how to be careful around him, and at the rate she was going, she would never learn. Wasn’t this the part where she should come to her senses and run? Staying with him would certainly be the more difficult part to explain if they ever got caught. “What happens if this plan of yours doesn’t work out?” she whispered into the dark.

 

“Then we go back to the original plan, get out of the country, get to Panama. Either way, I’m in this.”

 

“If we get separated?” she replied, a desperation seizing her almost out of nowhere.

 

The arm around her waist squeezed her gently. “Don’t worry,” he whispered. “Nothing can ever come between us. Nothing and no one. Whatever happens, I will come for you, no matter the cost.”

 

She relaxed against, allowing the steady beating of his heart to sync up with her own. Nothing would come between them; as long as they had each other they’d be fine.


End file.
